TAKE TWO_ Who says you can't ma - Heather M. Orgeron Page 0,47
by nature and can’t help herself.”
He laughs it off, but I can totally hear his discomfort as he laces his arm with Hannah’s and allows her to lead him from the room.
“You’re really okay with this?” I wait to ask the question until we’re alone.
She nods. “Hannah made me realize that it isn’t fair of me to cut your best friend out of your life. He’s been there for you and Ellie all these years. He’s as much a part of your family as Hannah is mine. So, yes… he’s welcome in our home, as long as he doesn’t show up with plans to purchase a strip club, or an ice cream truck, or—”
“I get it,” I say, cutting her off with a kiss. “Thank you. This means more to me than you realize.”
“I’m trying to let go of the past and make a fresh start.”
“You’re succeeding,” I assure her before taking two hands full of her ass, backing her against the wall, and kissing her senseless. “Love you so much, babe.”
“Te amo,” she murmurs into my mouth, twirling her tongue around mine.
The sound of an exaggerated gag breaks up our moment. It’s like this kid has a fucking radar sending her our direction every time our lips touch. “You’re kissing again?” Ellie groans. “Can we go open presents? Everyone’s here now.”
It takes every bit of an hour for Ellie to get through opening her gifts. She receives clothes and jewelry from my parents. A nail kit and drawing supplies from Sofia and Carlos. Really expensive makeup and more clothes and hair accessories from Hannah. And from Uncle Chance she gets a portable basketball goal and ball. They used to play at the townhouse we shared with Chance; I guess he noticed she was lacking one here.
Ellie picked out identical presents for her grandparents, and Chance and Hannah as well.
“Here, y’all open the big one first.” She tosses a sloppily wrapped blob to each of them.
They all start ripping into the paper at the same time.
“A fuzzy blanket….with your face printed on it.” Mom looks to Sofia and they share a smile. “I love it.”
“It’s the perfect gift, nieta,” Carlos beams. “A priceless treasure.”
The rest of their gifts: coffee mugs, pillows, T-shirts, and socks, all have various snapshots of Ellie’s face printed on them. Whoever said pre-teens were self-absorbed wasn’t lying.
From Nya and me, the adults receive gift cards to their favorite shops and restaurants.
My wife and I are the last to exchange presents. I have seriously been sweating bullets and on the edge of exploding with excitement over my gift for her.
“Open yours first,” she says, handing me a large rectangular box from her and El.
“It’s heavy.”
She shrugs, not giving anything away. “Don’t drop it.”
I pull the bow then tear the paper off, revealing a framed photograph—the one we took at the wedding parade with Diego beside us and our bride and groom puppets behind.
“Now you can hang it above the fireplace like you wanted.”
That sure sounds like an unofficial invitation to stay permanently! “I love it.” I grab her chin, pulling her face to mine. “Thank you,” I say against her lips before melding them with my own.
“Ahem.”
We break apart, and she rests her forehead on mine as we share a frustrated laugh at our daughter’s interruption.
I twist in my seat, grab Ellie’s arm, and tug her over to my lap to kiss the top of her head before scruffing my fist in it. “Thanks to you too, Squirt.”
“This one is only from me.” My wife shoos our daughter away before handing me a smaller rectangular box, the wrapping covered in miniature tacos. She’s got the hugest grin on her face.
I can’t help but smile to myself at the sentiment. Taco Tuesdays were serious business when we were in college. We had a standing date at a little hole in the wall, Paco’s Tacos. Immediately I’m taken back to that place. To the dingy booths and garish décor. Funnily enough, they even had one of those Asian cat statues in the mix—the ones you find on the counter of nail salons and Chinese restaurants. I can’t help but wonder if the place is still standing… maybe we’ll take Ellie one day soon and show her our old stomping ground. I can practically smell the cheap beer and sizzling meat.
My father clears his throat, jarring me from my thoughts—a not-so-subtle push to get on with it.
With haste, I rip the paper off to find an Amazon box layered in